


Cafeteria Politics

by grainjew



Series: let's paint the sky with constellations (and crown him with aurorae) [2]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Banter, Friendship, Gen, Ghost King Danny Fenton, Not Phantom Planet Compliant (Danny Phantom), Probably., danny voice i dont have issues. you have issues. yknow who's got issues? vlads got issues, hello have i mentioned recently how much i love valerie, i knew i was forgetting a tag and it was literally the ghost king tag. how could i, valerie just wants to punch things and i for one support her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21537439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grainjew/pseuds/grainjew
Summary: Valerie receives an invitation to the Ghost King’s coronation.Also: Pariah Dark is an idiot, Holiday Truce is on Eid al-Fitr this year, Sam has more weapons than you, and Valerie is justsodone with everything.Prequel toAurora, Estrella.
Relationships: Danny Fenton & Valerie Gray
Series: let's paint the sky with constellations (and crown him with aurorae) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552171
Comments: 55
Kudos: 839





	Cafeteria Politics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fallingwish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingwish/gifts).



> this is my 75th posted fic, which is totally surreal. thanks everyone who reads the stuff i post !!!! you really do give my life meaning

Valerie had had every plan to eat lunch alone. Star had promised lunch period to Paulina, and anyways Valerie had no intention of letting anyone near her food, because her dad had finally had enough time to cook dinner, and he was _good._ Valerie had claimed leftover lasagna for her lunch before she was halfway through her first helping.

So she was pretty miffed when, during passing period, Danny Fenton brushed by her in the hall, handed her a note that said **lunch. usual table** in his messy handwriting, and walked off as if nothing had happened.

Thought he could order her around, huh?

Well, no, he really didn't. 

But that was the problem. Ever since she'd (mostly) dropped her grudge on him, there had technically been an open spot in his group's little cluster at lunch for her. She took them up on it, sometimes. But sometimes she had last-minute homework to finish, or wanted to hang out with Star and complain about everything under the sun (and the Ghost Zone's green sky), or just… be alone. She'd found that she really liked solitude, once she got over her anger and betrayal. Danny and his friends never bothered her about it, not really, and only actually called her over if Amity's protectors needed to talk urgent business. 

Which meant something big was going down, which was exactly what she _didn't_ need on top of college applications and that horrible group project for Literature Of Colonial America, aka the worst course decision she'd ever made.

But the lives of everyone in Amity Park were worth more than her lit grade, so she put down her food on the usual table with the most dramatic sigh she could muster and waited until Danny, Sam, and Tucker (none of whom, lucky jerks, were taking Colonial Lit) joined her with their trays of inedible cafeteria lunch.

"So, what's going down?" she asked, as Danny dropped onto the bench looking like he'd had ten existential crises in the past ten seconds. If her tone was more snippy than intended, well, she didn't want to be here.

Instead of answering her, Danny rummaged around in his backpack and pulled out an obnoxiously bright green envelope that her suit helpfully informed her was ghostly in origin. Which she probably could have figured out on her own, given Danny's symbol was embossed on the front, but she couldn't fault the machine for trying to be helpful. It was better than the idiots she was working with for that group project, at any rate.

Valerie hissed a breath through her teeth as she slid a thick piece of black paper out of the envelope. It was just like Danny to avoid an explanation. And it was just like Sam and Tucker to somehow manage a seamless merge of staring at her with those watchful eyes and arguing about the ethics of romancing a robot. 

_Red Huntress,_ said the letter. In glowing text, of course. Ghosts just couldn’t help themselves, apparently. _You are invited to the coronation of the King of All Ghosts as a protector and representative of Amity Park and the Living World. An escort will meet you on the other side of the Fenton Portal in one week exactly, at 9 am. Please prepare to arrive unarmed, as weapons — ghostly or living — will not be tolerated during the ceremony._

_RSVP at your earliest convenience, but we will expect your arrival._

_Best regards,_

_Danny Phantom._

Valerie read through twice, just to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, and then she looked up at Danny. 

“You didn’t write this,” she said flatly.

“Ooh, called out!” whooped Tucker. “Got it in one.”

“Hey!”

Valerie raised an eyebrow. “And just how many times have you failed English?”

“An irrelevant amount,” said Danny, mullish.

Sam nudged him with her unused knife. “She’s right, you know.”

“You, too, Sam?” He feigned betrayal, gripping his chest like he was a character in a soap opera. “Siding with Val? I thought you hated her!”

“Yeah, in _freshman year,_ ” said Sam.

Tucker snickered.

“Shut up,” said Danny, to nobody in particular. And then he added, in Valerie’s direction, “But yeah, it was a group effort.” He waved a hand. “Anyways.”

“Anyways,” said Valerie. She looked down at the letter again. The glow had faded out of the words, leaving them silver. Not unsettling at all. “Care to explain?”

“Uh,” he said, instead of elaborating, and Valerie nearly brought her hand to her face. She’d forgotten that Danny and Explaining Himself went together like Vlad and Being A Decent Person — that is to say, they didn’t. At all.

Thankfully, Tucker took mercy on them. “Danny’s royalty now,” he said, between bites of mystery overcooked cafeteria horror. 

Which didn’t actually explain anything. Desperately, Valerie looked to Sam, but all she got was a merciless shrug and the sight of Sam chasing boiled peas with a fork.

Then again, despite Vlad playing her like a fiddle for a solid year, Valerie wasn’t stupid, and the dots she’d been handed really weren’t that hard to connect. Especially because she didn’t have to write a three-page essay on her process. 

"They're making _you_ the Ghost King," she concluded flatly. “ _Why?_ ”

“That’s what I said too,” said Danny. He made a face at his food. “But this sort of thing’s apparently even more binding than Holiday Truce — which I think Skulker said the other day was on Eid this year, someone remind me to look up the date for that — so I can’t, like,” he waved his hands around, “not be Ghost King or anything.”

“It’s a right of challenge thing,” added Sam. She’d given up on getting her peas with her fork and had decided to pick up the entire plate and just tip them into her mouth, which was, miraculously, actually working. “When he went to fight Pariah Dark, he issued a challenge—”

“Accidentally,” put in Danny.

“—and Pariah Dark accepted it,” Sam continued. “So when he won…”

“He won the kingship,” finished Valerie.

“Well, sort of,” said Tucker. He licked his knife and then put down his utensils to pull out a PDA. “It wasn’t the winning that did it, it was knocking off Pariah’s crown during the fight. Turns out normally you need to personally strip the King of both the Ring of Rage and the Crown of Fire to win a challenge, but Pariah’s claim was already kind of shaky cause he’d been locked up without the Ring for ages, so just the Crown did it. Also, Danny, I sent you the Truce date.”

Fascinating. The implications for ghost society… 

“Thanks, Tuck, you’re a lifesaver.” Danny paused his eating to smile at Tucker, and then frowned. “Deathsaver?”

Valerie only suppressed the urge to shoot at him because they were surrounded by witnesses. Instead, she took a bite of her lasagna (delicious, thank you very much) and said, “Why’d Pariah Dark accept a challenge like that? Seems stupid.”

“Arrogant jerk who didn’t think he could lose?” suggested Sam.

“Not even a groan? Really guys?” complained Danny, throwing his arms out and accidentally hitting his friends. They smacked him in retaliation. “Ugh… You’re all the worst. But actually, I’ve got a theory about that.” He paused. “Not about you being the worst. About Pariah Dark being stupid.”

“Obviously,” said Valerie.

“Shut up,” said Danny. “Anyways I mean, Pariah Dark obviously thought he could beat me, for sure, and I still don’t know how he didn’t. But he’d just gotten woken up from being stuffed in a coffin for thousands of years. It’d make him look weak to turn down a challenge — better to get it over with right off the bat instead of having half the Zone coming after his throne.”

“Makes sense,” said Tucker. He was typing something. “Still an idiot, though.”

“Absolutely.”

“Yeah.”

“Totally.”

Nobody talked for a few minutes as they concentrated on finishing their food. Except Tucker, who concentrated on fiddling with his PDA instead. Then Danny put down his fork and looked at Valerie, posture settling into something more Phantom than Fenton. Valerie shoved the last of her lasagna into her mouth, packed up her lunch, and looked back as the Red Huntress. 

Time for business.

“I’ve got a couple favors to ask, Val,” he said, in the tone he’d used when he originally proposed their alliance, which was, also, somehow, the same tone he used when he was asking for her leftover fries. 

“Name them,” she said. Then she added, “That’s— not a promise that I’ll go through with them. Just tell me what they are, first.”

Sam snorted. “Yes, Valerie, we know you’re paranoid.”

“Like you aren’t?” Valerie shot back. She squared herself for battle. “How many hidden weapons do you have on you right now? For that matter, how many potential _excuses_ for hidden weapons do you have on you right now?”

“Less than you,” said Tucker.

“More than,” objected Sam.

“Shh, guys, we’re in the cafeteria,” hissed Danny.

“I have my suit,” argued Valerie, only slightly quieter. “It doesn’t count, it’s _integrated._ ”

“You keep telling yourself that,” said Sam. “I have more guns than you and I’m a better shot, too.”

Privately, Valerie thought Sam was still bitter about Valerie spending a year trying to obliterate her best friend, no matter what Sam said.

“Guys,” said Danny. He picked his fork back up and dropped it on the table, for dramatic effect. “Guys, please, you’re gonna get us all suspended. We were talking about favors?”

“Fine,” said Valerie. “Name ‘em.”

“Right.” Danny gestured at himself, and then at Sam and Tucker. “We’re gonna be in the Ghost Zone basically non-stop except for class until the whole thing’s done, so I wanted to let you know and ask you to keep an eye on Amity for me, yeah?”

Valerie made a face. “You say that like I don’t _already_ keep an eye on Amity.”

“Yeah, but I’m backup.” He did have a point. “Just letting you know that more than half the usual firepower’s gonna be out of town.”

Valerie scowled at him. “What do you mean, _more_ than half?”

“Uh, Sam and Tucker are gonna be gone too? Duh.”

“We were _just_ talking about my hidden weapons,” added Sam.

Valerie waved the topic to the side with a hand, because antagonizing Danny was one thing, but the Red Huntress couldn’t get away with beating up innocent high schoolers. Even if they were the worst. “You said more than one favor?”

“D’you agree to that one first?” asked Danny. 

Damn, nothing got past him. Well, Valerie hadn’t intended on saying no, especially because she could always make him take over her duties as payment some other time. Maybe finals week. She had a job on top of being the Red Huntress, she deserved at _least_ a break from ghost-hunting. “Yeah, I’ll do exactly the same thing as I normally do, without you guys getting in my way.”

“ _Val,_ ” complained Danny. She didn’t dignify him with a response. “Anyways. The other thing is that the invitation was addressed to the Red Huntress, not Valerie Gray.”

She’d noticed, but dismissed it. But now that she was looking back, it was odd. Most of the ghosts knew her identity — gossip traveled faster in the Ghost Zone than in Casper High, which Valerie honestly hadn’t thought was possible until she had proof in the form of near-instantaneous and very uninvited news about Ember and Skulker’s relationship drama via, of all people, the Box Ghost — and they liked to call her by her real name. Probably to annoy her, or if not that, because they were imitating Danny.

And anyways, the letter was ostensibly written _by_ Danny, who’d known her identity from practically the day she got her first suit.

She raised an eyebrow.

“I need you there as the Red Huntress,” said Danny. He was leaning forward, and there was something desperate in his voice. It wasn’t a tone she heard often from him, and it made her certain that this was the _real_ favor. The other one had basically been vacation notice and a request to cover his shifts. “Not as Valerie Gray. There’s not much difference, really, but it’s like, a symbol. I _need_ the Red Huntress there, bound to coronation truce same as all the ghosts. For, like,” he waved his hands around, trying to shape a thought, “peace, and stuff. If I’m gonna be Ghost King, the least I can do is do it _right._ The ghosts don’t deserve another Pariah Dark.”

Valerie stared at his conviction, and wondered why she’d laughed when she found out he would inherit the crown.

“It’s a really low-effort role,” added Tucker into her silence, using his moneymaking-scheme-pitching voice. “All you have to do is show up in your suit and not shoot anyone.”

“You’re forgetting this is the Red Huntress _,_ Tucker,” said Sam. “I’m sure that it will be very difficult for her to not shoot anyone.”

Valerie threw Sam a poisonous glare, any admiration she still felt for the three of them melting like snow in summer. 

“I’m in,” she said, spiteful. _Why_ did she associate with these people? At this rate she almost _wanted_ to be working on her Colonial Lit project, which was seriously a new low. “Watch me not even _want_ to shoot anyone the whole time.”

“That’ll be the day,” muttered Danny. Traitor. “But seriously, thanks, Val. We’re inviting my parents, too, for the same reason."

"You're inviting Mr and Mrs Shoot First, Ask Questions Never to your _coronation,_ " said Valerie flatly. Even _she'd_ never been as bad as the Fentons. Her modus operandi had been Shoot First, Ask Questions When The Target Is Subdued And Under Her Control, And Only If The Target Isn't Phantom, so not _much_ better, but the point stood. Besides, they didn't even know their son was a halfa, and Danny sure didn't seem keen on telling them. "I know you've been making progress with them, but that's just stupid."

"He wants to do the full reveal," said Tucker, leaning forward with an _isn't he an idiot_ sort of grin.

"I do not!"

"Maybe not _consciously,_ " said Sam. "But you've been hinting so hard Jazz knew something was up after three seconds of video call. If you'll remember, she had a field day."

"Hard to forget," said Danny, with a scowl. "'specially with you two laughing the whole time. Anyways, Val, speaking of Jazz, Dani'll be at the thing! She's staying in Jazz's dorm right now; they're driving over together."

A topic change worthy of Danny Fenton: supremely obvious and perfectly timed to divert the conversation anywhere but his emotional issues. And well-planned, too, Valerie admitted as she unconsciously started to grin. He knew she'd be too happy at the prospect of Dani to push the subject. "Awesome!"

"She said she's excited to see you, too!" said Danny, grinning back. Dani was the one thing they would both drop everything for. The one thing they _had_ dropped everything for, Danny his secrets and Valerie her hate.

Valerie said, "She should _call,_ I miss her."

"Same," said Danny.

"And yet she _still_ refuses to get a phone," complained Tucker.

"And doesn't want to waste her quarters on payphones when she could buy gum with them," added Sam.

"Entirely reasonable," said Valerie.

"But she should still call," said Danny.

"Yeah," said the rest of them.

"Gimme your sister's number," said Valerie, after a moment. "I need it for Dani-calling reasons."

"Uh, sure," said Danny. "You don't have it, though? I thought you had that massive crush on her sophomore year."

"You say that like anyone with a crush on Jazz has _ever_ gotten her number. I was trying to shoot her brother, Danny. Not a great first impression."

"Didn't stop _me,_ " protested Danny. A pause. Tucker rolled his eyes. "Or Tucker," Danny added belatedly.

"Unlike the rest of this species, _Jazz_ has working common sense," said Sam.

"Point taken," they chorused.

Danny obligingly put Jazz’s number into Valerie’s phone when she handed it to him, then gave it back with a flourish. 

“I’ll text her to let her know you’re not out to murder her when you call,” said Danny. 

“She’ll block you otherwise,” said Tucker, with the tone of someone who knew from experience. 

“Good to know,” said Valerie. “Let me know when it’s safe.”

“You’re on,” said Danny. “So— next Monday, at the Fenton Portal?” Valerie nodded. “I don’t think we’ll be able to meet you, but someone probably will. If only ‘cause of my parents.”

“Yeah, we’re not letting _them_ in the Ghost Zone unsupervised,” said Sam. She turned to Tucker and Danny. “Hey, d’you think maybe Jazz—?”

“Wouldn’t that make them more suspicious?” objected Tucker. “I mean, they don’t know she’s ever been in the Zone…”

“Seriously, though,” said Danny, as Sam and Tucker kept going back and forth about plans like he wasn’t sitting between them. Valerie tried to imagine him as Ghost King, the Ring of Rage — which she’d _worn_ — on his finger like a promise. She tried to imagine a just Ghost King, who didn’t destroy, who used his power kindly. It didn’t work, even when she superimposed Phantom’s green eyes over Danny’s soft blue. “Thanks so much, Val. I really owe you one.”

“Yeah,” she said, and if her voice was a little shaky — with fear, or with foreboding, or with frustration — well, she ignored it. “We’re allies, right? Anytime.”

Danny's face lit up like she'd handed him the stars. "Guess so!"

Then the bell rang to signal end of lunch period, and, simultaneously, a puff of mist escaped from Danny’s mouth. 

He groaned, cast his eyes to an equally dismayed Sam and Tucker.

“Mind if I take that, actually?” said Valerie, starting to grin. “I have a Colonial Lit class I’d really love to miss.”

Danny smiled gratefully, all Danny Fenton again, and took off with his friends, as Valerie slipped outside to put on her suit in peace. Group projects were _so_ overrated — she’d pick hunting ghosts alone, wind rushing in her face and her whole body awake, any day.

No contest.

**Author's Note:**

> let's be real valerie has a Type, and that type is ghost hunters
> 
> also, yes, im spiteful and jewish and it makes a lot more sense to me if Truce rotates between holidays. plus, nobody tells danny anything, so you get nonsense interactions like this:  
> "yeah we don't fight on Christmas, _truce_ is on Christmas"  
> -a year later-  
> "Yeah we don't fight on Holi, _truce_ is on Holi"  
> Danny: _???????????????????_


End file.
